The Cherokee Rose
by EnglishPoet18
Summary: Y'all twisted my arm into posting another story. (Okay, maybe not, but we'll pretend) I make no promises on every day updates, but I will try and update as much as possible. I started not to post this, but when it all came tumbling out I decided, why not? What good is a story if no one gets to read it? Enjoy! CARYL / I own nothing from The Walking Dead
1. Chapter 1

_Just breathe, Carol._

 _Just breathe. You can do this._

 _It's just like riding a bike._

Except it wasn't and suddenly she wasn't so sure of what she was doing.

"Can I help you with something, ma'am?"

Carol turned towards the voice. An older man with a white beard and a shirt that read, 'Herschel's Nursery', was staring at her kindly. She noticed that the corners of his blue eyes crinkled when he smiled. For some reason that she couldn't explain, he set her at ease.

"I-" Flowers. That's what she had come here for. "I need a flower," she explained.

He tilted his head in thought and nodded as if he had expected as much. But what else would she have been here for?

"What's the occasion?"

And there it was.

That sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach had returned and the memories came rushing back, threatening to bring with it another round of tears for the day.

She was so tired of crying.

"They're for my daughter." Her voice was a near whisper.

The man's smile blossomed. "What's her favorite color?"

"Yellow. Her favorite color is- _was_ yellow."

A moment of understanding passed over the man's features and his smile died a little. He didn't let that deter him though as he looked over his shoulder as if searching for something or someone.

"Daryl!"

There was a loud smack and then the sounds of muffled cursing before a voice returned, "Yeah?"

"Come out here a minute, Son."

Carol did her best to wait as patiently as possible even though she was more than ready to get the hell out of there. Dealing with people just wasn't something she was ready for even though she had desperately wanted to be.

She was so tired of just existing. She wanted to live.

Daryl walked over, his eyes quietly assessing her in a way that caused irritation to stir within Carol. His dark brown hair looked nearly black, with strands falling forward into his eyes just enough to make her want to find a pair of scissors.

"This young lady is looking for some yellow flowers for her daughter," the white-haired man explained.

Daryl nodded once, his eyes sliding back and forth between them. Suddenly she wished that she had just went to the supermarket and picked something out. At least there she would have been more than likely to slip in and out unnoticed. Except she knew that the supermarket wouldn't have anything near as fresh and beautiful as this place.

"Well I'll leave you two kids to it. The name's Herschel and my son Daryl will take good care of you." He smiled at her again.

Carol knew this was the moment when her manners should kick in and she would introduce herself, but she remained quiet and impassive. She just wanted the flowers. Why couldn't they just give her the flowers so that she could go?

Yellow flowers, that's all she needed.

"How old is your daughter?" Daryl asked as Herschel walked away to help another customer.

"Nine," Carol replied softly. "Can you just show me what you have please?" The tone of her voice came out more biting than she had intended, but she didn't apologize for it. She had done enough of that in her lifetime.

"Right this way," Daryl said and he abruptly turned, leaving her to follow.

The greenhouse was fairly big, with five long columns inside and dozens of greenery located on the outside. The flowers looked lush and beautiful, their leaves sparkling with the moisture from a recent watering. It was apparent to her that Herschel took great pride in his plants.

"These are what we have in yellow right now," Daryl spoke up from several feet away.

Carol wandered over and glanced at the flowers, but none of them really seemed to spark her interest. They were without a doubt beautiful, but they weren't the ones she wanted. Maybe she would keep her options open to flowers of a different color. The thought of putting something other than Sophia's favorite color out saddened her though.

"This is really all you have? I figured a greenhouse would have way more to choose from than this."

Daryl raised a brow, but didn't directly comment on her tone. "I can show you something in a different color," he offered.

"But _yellow_ is her favorite," Carol insisted.

He nodded. "Okay. Well then this is what we have now."

"These won't do." Carol's palms started to sweat. She should just walk away, just leave and go by the supermarket for some yellow roses.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do about that. I can show you some real pretty flowers that I think your daughter mi-"

"Her favorite color is yellow!" Carol's voice rose above a normal conversational tone and she quickly lowered her voice as Herschel and several others glanced their way in concern.

"Hey, you okay?" She felt Daryl's hand lightly touch her shoulder and she flinched, pulling away.

"Do I look okay?"

He narrowed his eyes, obviously fed up with her rude demeanor. Not that she could blame him. She knew how she was acting. What she didn't know was how to stop it. She was a mess and she knew it. Why hadn't she just stayed home?

"Maybe you should bring your daughter by and let her choose which ones she likes," he suggested.

"She's dead," Carol blurted. She rubbed a hand over her forehead and realized that she was lightly sweating. Her hands trembled and she tried to inhale deep breaths in order to keep herself calm. Her body refused to cooperate though.

She barely paid any attention as Daryl shuffled past her. She needed to find the exit. No way was she having this panic attack in front of these people. She would go home and suffer in silence without an audience and then tomorrow she would come up with another plan. But even as she turned for the exit, Daryl was back with a flower pot in his hand.

Carol was distracted long enough to gaze upon the flower and the light perfume tickled her nose as Daryl thrust the pot into her hands. The flower had white petals, but in the center it was a beautiful golden...yellow. Carol just stared at it, unsure of what to do when Daryl began talking.

"This is the Cherokee Rose," Daryl explained.

"Cherokee Rose?" Carol repeated distractedly.

Daryl nodded, but his attention was on the flower, the light in his eyes radiant as he stroked his fingers lightly over the petals. "It's the state flower of Georgia. There's a legend to this flower. Wanna hear it?" He raised his eyes and as they locked with hers she swallowed, her throat noticeably less tight. All she could do was nod and wait.

"There's a place called, 'The Trail of Tears', in Oklahoma, where the mothers of the Cherokee were grieving and crying so much from their journey West that they were unable to help their children survive the journey. They prayed for a sign of strength. The legend goes to say that the Gods looked down upon them and as the tears of the mother's dropped to the ground, he changed them into stone in the shape of a Cherokee Rose. The next day a beautiful white rose began to grow from where each of the tears had fallen. See this?" Daryl stroked the white petal, a soft smile on his face. "The rose is white for their tears and the yellow represents the gold taken from their lands. The seven leaves on each stem are for the seven Cherokee clans. They are a representation of their pain and suffering, but also from their strength." Daryl glanced at her and Carol gazed back at him in wonder as he continued, "Because through their suffering, they found strength. This is why I think you should get this one for your daughter." He looked away, breaking eye contact and Carol took a deep breath of air, surprised to find that the crushing weight from mere moments ago had disappeared.

She looked down at the flower in her arms and leaned in close, drawing its scent deep into her lungs. "My daughter would have really loved that. She was a big fan of historical facts," Carol admitted.

Daryl nodded in understanding. "Anyway. That's the story. Take it or leave it," he mumbled.

Carol took a deep breath and for the first time in a long time a small smile teased her lips.

"I'll take it."


	2. Chapter 2

It had been two years since she had lost Sophia. Two long years, but yet it still felt like yesterday. It was especially bad at night when at times she would find herself straining to hear the pitter-patter of her daughter's footsteps down the hall. The loneliness was starting to consume her and the panic attacks - although new, were beginning to occur more frequently.

She thought she was ready to get out more. She _wanted_ to be ready, but it hadn't been as easy as she thought. The saying that time heals all wounds couldn't be true because she had given it time and the wound was still raw.

She had to force herself to get up each day and over time she had developed a routine. Get up, make the bed, drink coffee out on the porch while watching the sun rise, clean the house, eat lunch then dinner, and then try and sleep.

It might have been easier had she obtained a job, but she had yet to take that step. She didn't really have to work. When her late husband Ed had passed five years ago, his life insurance had paid out a hefty sum to which she had wisely invested. It seemed that Ed had finally been good for something even if his death had to occur as a result of it.

Carol sighed as she placed the Cherokee Rose next to the tombstone, her hand skirting across the smooth stone as if she were simply brushing away a lock of Sophia's auburn hair.

She busied herself cleaning up the wilting remnants of the last flower she had placed upon the grave. Even though the cemetery had its own maintenance crew, she still took it upon herself to keep the gravesite clean of any and all debri.

"My baby girl," she whispered.

The Cherokee Rose petals swayed in the gentle breeze and Carol felt a sense of peace. It had been a lovely choice and she really was grateful to the man at the greenhouse for helping her, even though she hadn't really shown it.

Maybe she would return there soon and apologize to him. Then while she was there she might pick out a few more of the roses, maybe even plant some at home next to the porch where the early morning sun could bathe them in light.

"What do you think, baby? Do you like the rose? It is rather unique," Carol admitted.

The breeze drifted through once more, ruffling her hair and Carol closed her eyes, enjoying the moment.

Planting some flowers would definitely give her something to do with her time. Plus she had been neglecting the outside of the house for quite some time so it was long overdo for some tender loving care.

She thought about waking in the morning and stepping onto the porch with her coffee, the scent of the Cherokee Roses surrounding her as she sat to watch the sunrise. Yes, they would do nicely.

It was decided. Tomorrow, she would make the trek back to the greenhouse and see about purchasing some more of the flowers. Carol brushed her hand over the stone once more.

"I love you, Sophia." Turning around, she headed towards her car, her heart not quite as heavy as in past visits. For once she had hope that maybe the future wasn't quite as bleak after all.

* * *

"She was pretty."

Daryl grunted in reply, ignoring his sister Tara as he busied himself rearranging the heavier plants so that they would get full benefit of the afternoon sun.

"It's been a long time since the accident."

"Don't," Daryl warned harshly and then exhaled as he saw Tara's expression fall. She was clearly hurt and she did a quick turn on her hiking boots to leave, but Daryl was faster. He grabbed her by the hand and squeezed once in apology. "Just not today, alright?"

It wasn't that he was still mourning his loss, but the memory had become fresh this morning as he had talked to the lady with the Cherokee Rose. He wasn't in as bad of shape as she had been. Her pain still seemed fresh whereas he was content most days. He had accepted it and moved on. It was easier that way.

If only he could convince himself of that.

"I was thinking of going out and grabbing some lunch. Want to come with?" Tara offered.

"At a restaurant?"

"It is where one usually gets food besides a grocery store," she mused.

Daryl shook his head. "Maybe next time. Got a lot of stuff to do." He really didn't but _she_ didn't need to know that.

She rolled her eyes, but he saw the hint of sympathy within them. He turned away, not wanting to see.

"I swear, you and Dad work too much." Daryl glanced down at his hands and flexed them, working out the soreness in his joints. His skin was decorated with scratches and random scars, the product of a hard day's work. He grunted again when Tara leaned over to kiss his cheek and pat his shoulder affectionately. "Be back in a bit."

"Be careful," he cautioned.

"Always."

Daryl watched her walk off, her short brown ponytail swinging with each step. He knew he was hard on her most days. He tried not to be, but he simply couldn't help it. There was always that tiny flicker of fear that when someone he loved walked away from him that he might not ever see them again. It wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be, but it was still there all the same.

"Playin' in the dirt again, I see," a deep familiar voice mused.

"Better than playin' in shit." Daryl smirked.

Rick punched him playfully, yelping when Daryl pinched his side in retaliation. They spent a few moments trying to get the best of one another, but it was a losing battle. They were pretty equally adept at taking care of themselves and had been around each other long enough to know the other's tricks.

"What are you doing here? Miss me already?" Daryl taunted when they finally took a breather.

"You wish," Rick retorted. "Herschel called me. One of the sprinkler systems is screwing up again."

"Still can't figure out why he called a plumber." Daryl smiled.

"Because maybe he just likes me more, okay?" Rick laughed. "Add to that the fact that I only charge him parts and not the labor that someone else might charge."

"I don't know why he didn't just ask me to look at it," Daryl frowned.

Rick clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, don't sweat it. You know how he hates to ask you to do anymore than you already do. He worries."

"Yeah," Daryl agreed. "I better go check and make sure he's not doing too much. Stubborn ass."

Rick chuckled good-naturedly and saluted Daryl as he walked down the aisle towards the back of the greenhouse. "See ya later, D."

"Later, Rich." Rick shook his head at the old nickname, but made no further comment.

Daryl took a deep breath and headed in the direction of Herschel's booming voice. On his way he passed by the Cherokee Roses and he was once again reminded of the lady from earlier. He hadn't originally thought much of her. She looked pretty normal, but then she had almost smiled there at the end and it had changed his mind. He wondered what she would look like if she actually _did_ smile?

He quickly pushed the thought away and headed to help out his dad. He didn't have time for such things.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Do I have to go to school today?"_

 _"That depends. Do you want to spend the rest of your life struggling to make ends meet or do you want to be able to buy the things you want?"_

 _Sophia pursed her lips in thought, her forehead wrinkling in a way that was almost comical. "But I'm only in second grade."_

 _Carol took a sip of her coffee, wincing when the liquid scorched her lips. "Second grade is just as important as all the others."_

 _Sophia sighed dramatically before taking the last bite of her cereal. "Are you gonna get a job?"_

 _Carol toyed with the handle of her coffee cup. She had done a lot of thinking about that. She knew that without money coming in they would eventually run out. She also knew that she needed something to occupy her time especially while Sophia was in school. What she didn't know was what kind of job she wanted to pursue._

 _She had an education so that wasn't a problem. She had taken classes at the community college in journalism before meeting Ed. She had yet to put that education to use, the degree sitting in a frame collecting dust on the shelf of her closet._

 _"I'm thinking about it," she admitted, watching her daughter carefully._

 _Sophia nodded in understanding and it struck Carol in that moment just how grown up her daughter could be sometimes. "I think you should. No need in sitting here all day while I'm at school. That's gotta be boring." Sophia grabbed her backpack and lunchbox. "We don't wanna miss the bus, Mama."_

The bus. Oh how Carol wished Sophia had missed the bus that morning.

But she hadn't and now she wasn't here.

But Carol still was, and she believed that everything in life happened for a reason. Or at least she used to...She wasn't so sure what she believed anymore.

What she did know was that she needed to do something with her life. She couldn't keep going on this way - merely existing.

She took a sip of her coffee and stared off into the sunrise.

It was time.

* * *

"You know what you need?"

"Five minutes of quiet?" Daryl quipped, with a backwards glance.

Tara huffed at his remark, but he knew that she wasn't offended. That was the thing about his sister. She had a tough skin and it took a lot to rattle her. She had a heart of gold as well, but she wouldn't be bullied.

She also had a tendency to talk non-stop.

"You need a vacation."

Daryl snorted and paused in the act of stacking bags of fertilizer near the door. He perched one hand upon his hip, deciding to play into her conversation. "And just where you think I should go?"

Tara clicked her pen back and forth, blowing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Uncle Dale still has that cabin..."

"No."

Tara's hopeful expression fell and she boosted herself onto the counter, swinging her legs around so that she faced his direction. "So go somewhere else."

"You trying to get rid of me or something?"

"No, I'm just... I just care about you, Daryl. You work so hard just like Dad and I see what kind of toll it takes on him. You used to take time for yourself, but you don't do that anymore."

Daryl inwardly cringed, hearing the words that she didn't speak. He didn't think he was doing too much at all. Most days he felt like he didn't do enough.

The nursery pretty much belonged to Daryl now. Herschel hadn't so much as said so, but his actions spoke louder than words. He had slowly let Daryl take on more responsibility and even though he still kept busy, Herschel didn't spend as much of his time devoted to the nursery as he used to.

Daryl supposed there were a multitude of things he could be doing with his life. He felt he owed it to his Dad to help care for the nursery seeing as how Herschel had single-handedly put his whole life into making sure his kids had what they needed. Besides, Daryl really enjoyed being outdoors.

"Excuse me."

Daryl turned at the sound of her voice, his eyes quickly taking in the woman who had purchased the Cherokee Rose. She seemed in better spirits today, although the same sadness that had been evident in her big blue eyes two days ago still lingered. She was a mystery to him.

"Uh..."

"Hey! I remember you! Your name's Carol, right? You were the one who got the rose!" Tara beamed from behind the counter, her eyes sparkling in a way that made Daryl nervous.

"Yes it is. And the Cherokee Rose, yes," Carol replied, her eyes flitting between the two of them. She opened her mouth to say something then seemed to think better of it and closed it. She looked around before finally speaking again. "I wanted to purchase more of the roses and possibly see about some other flowers as well."

"Daryl would be glad to help you with that," Tara chirped. "He knows everything about flowers. I just work here." Daryl watched his sister wink at Carol and never had he wanted to throttle her more. He frowned, unaware that Carol was watching his reaction.

"Actually, I think I can find everything I need on my own." Carol brushed past him, a determined look upon her face.

Daryl stared after her, dumbfounded. "I don't mind helping," he offered.

"Oh, I'm sure you don't," Carol replied briskly. "I wouldn't want to pull you away from your ever important job of stacking fertilizer." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her words and tone catching him off guard. This wasn't the woman he remembered from the other day. This woman was someone else entirely. He found himself following her down one of the aisles, his stacking forgotten. He vaguely heard Tara chuckle from behind the counter.

"Do you even know what you're looking for?" He found himself asking.

She paused a step and then resumed meandering down the aisle. "I want something bold and beautiful to grow beside my front porch. I enjoy drinking coffee outside in the mornings and it would be nice to have something pretty to look at." She blushed as if she had spoken too much and he found himself watching her, drawn suddenly to the color in her cheeks and the way it made her eyes sparkle.

 _"It would be nice to have something pretty to look at."_ Daryl was thinking she already had something pretty to look at if only she gazed into a mirror. He kept that comment to himself however.

"Listen, um-"

"Daryl," he offered.

She ducked her head and then glanced around the nursery, obviously avoiding eye contact.

"Daryl." She spoke his name so softly. "I'm sorry if I've come across a little rude or slightly crazy to you." She let out a little chuckle. "I've, uh, just been going through a lot and I haven't really been around people in so long that I've kind of forgotten how to act."

He watched her silently, arms folded across his chest. Finally he gave a little nod, "It's alright. I'm not too good with people either. Hell, most of them I've seen _are_ crazy so you're not so different." He smiled and they shared a short laugh.

"Well okay then. I'd be very appreciative if you would help me pick some things out."

"Yes ma'am. Right this way."

There were a lot of things in this world that remained a mystery to Daryl Dixon, but no single person had ever had him so intrigued. He hadn't been lying when he said he had seen a lot of crazy people, but he really didn't think Carol was one of them. There was definitely more underneath the surface though.

The only question was, did he want to dig around and find out?


	4. Chapter 4

She had flowers.

Lots and lots of flowers. So much so that her trunk and backseat had been fully covered in them. They were everywhere, some still slightly damp from the long drink of water they had been given. Daryl had offered to cover the backseat with a plastic sheet, but Carol denied the offer. It had been too long since her car had been dirty and she hadn't realized how much she had missed it.

Oh, and there was something else too.

She smiled.

For the duration of her drive home, she smiled. Maybe it was the scent of the flowers or maybe it was that she finally felt like she had purpose again. For whatever the reason she felt content in that moment.

It took her half an hour to get her car unloaded and then a full hour to position the flowers where she thought might suit best. The day was mildly humid, but not too warm and the sun felt good shining down on her skin. It didn't take her long to dive in and tackle the weeds that had taken up residence by her porch. Needless to say she was fully consumed in her project which explained why she never heard anyone approach until they cleared their throat.

Startled by the sudden noise, Carol released a sharp cry of surprise. She turned around so fast that for a moment the earth began to spin before quickly settling on the man in front of her.

"Can I help you?"

"Hello. I was wondering if you've seen my cat?"

Carol shielded her eyes against the sun. The man - whom she didn't recognize, simply stared at her so intently that Carol almost felt nervous.  
Where had he come from? He stood stiffly, as if he were afraid to move. To Carol he looked as though he had stepped straight out of the eighties and hadn't figured out what decade it was yet.

"Your cat?" Carol repeated.

"Yes. That is what I said. He has four legs and a tail. He can be quite ornery at times, but he's mine. Have you seen him?"

"Um, no, I haven't. I'm sorry. I can let you know if I do though. Do you live nearby?" She knew she had been a bit of a recluse lately, but she was sure she would have remembered this man.

"I just moved in a few doors down. It's a nice house, probably the best I've stayed in, but it could use some work. Well, let me know if you see Sir Reginald the third."

Carol wasn't sure if she was entertained or simply weirded out by her new neighbor. He didn't seem to have much of a personality, his tone never fluctuating the whole conversation.

"Sir Reginald the third?"

"My cat."

"Oh, right. Of course, Mr.-?

"Eugene. It's just Eugene." Eugene's eyes darted around as if he were checking her place out.

Carol stood and brushed her dirty hands against her jeans. It wasn't really effective so she decided against a friendly handshake and simply smiled at him instead.

"Carol Peletier. Nice to meet you, Eugene."

"The same. I'll be on my way now. Much obliged."

Carol shook her head as she watched Eugene leave her yard. It had been a strange, but good day so far. She was meeting people again and it felt good to mingle with the real world. She glanced at her work in progress.

She also had flowers and a purpose. Maybe after planting these she would work on the backyard. Who knew what would happen next?

For the first time in a long while she couldn't wait to find out.

* * *

Instead of heading back inside after Carol left, Daryl decided to take a short walk. He couldn't pinpoint the reason, but he felt like he needed to breathe without distraction. He wouldn't go very far so that he could still be available if Tara needed anything.

As he walked he stared off into the distance, but his eyes weren't seeing the landscape in front of him. Instead they were seeing the memories...

 _"Don't be a little shit, brother. You got something to say, you say it."_

 _Daryl let out a sigh and used the toe of his boot to kick the dirt at his feet. He didn't really want to have this conversation, especially with Merle, but he didn't have any other alternatives at the moment either. No way was he asking his dad these things and most definitely not Tara. He had even debated on asking Merle at all, but his brother had been in a good mood today and Daryl figured it was now or never._

 _"Don't fuckin' stare at me like that, Merle. Makes me nervous. Jesus," Daryl muttered._

 _Merle rolled his eyes and looked away as they stopped walking. He crossed his arms and waited silently, a move that told Daryl he better go ahead and spit it out while he had the chance. Chances like this were rare with Merle._

 _"There's this girl...I don't - I mean, I kind of like her. What do I say to her?" Daryl was sweating and it wasn't even hot out. He tensed as he waited for Merle to say something stupid or tease him. He swore if he did then he was never speaking to his brother ever again._

 _Christ, why couldn't he stop sweating?_

 _Merle's brows lifted and a flicker of surprise reflected in his eyes as he turned to look at Daryl. Daryl squared his shoulders and stared his brother back head-on, ready to defend himself. Only he was surprised to find not an ounce of laughter lingering in the eldest Dixon's blue eyes._

 _"She anybody I know?"_

 _"No. I doubt you'd know her. She kind of keeps to herself."_

 _Merle nodded. "Good. She talk to you at all? You ever say anything to her?"_

 _Daryl rocked back on his heels as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans. "I asked her to borrow a pencil once."_

 _Merle let out a snort of amusement and Daryl twitched. "And what did she say?"_

 _"She gave me two so I'd have a spare." Daryl remembered how she had shyly looked at him through her long brown curls that always seemed to fall in her face. He never had many friends in school because most people seemed intimidated by him although it had never bothered him too much. He wasn't real big on being social. The girls that did talk to him were ones he didn't want anything to do with. They only wanted him as a way to get closer to his brother and Daryl was never stupid enough to fall for their charms. "This is so stupid. Just forget it."_

 _As Daryl turned to walk away, Merle grabbed his arm, yanking him back into place. He always hated when Merle did shit like that because there wasn't anything Daryl could do to stop it. Merle was bigger than he was and stronger. Daryl still had some catching up to do._

 _"I'd say there's a good chance you got yourself on to something there, brother. Not many kind people left in this world these days and to find someone willin' to go that extra mile means you got yourself someone worth fightin' for. The ones that require the most effort are usually the ones that make the end result worth your while. You ever find yourself someone like that then you know you've found somebody."_

 _"But what do I do? Do I talk to her? What do I say? That doesn't help me much, Merle." Daryl could feel his voice rise in exasperation. Since when did his brother get so sappy? And what the hell was he talking about? None of that helped Daryl's current situation._

 _Merle simply smiled and slid his arm across Daryl's shoulders. "This is one of those you have to do on your own, little brother. Just be yourself. You've already won half the battle."_

 _"For the love of Christ. You're no help," Daryl muttered._

 _Merle chuckled and tightened his arm around Daryl's shoulder. "My brother's growin' up. Sweet sixteen and tryin' to get himself a girl. A tad bit late I might add, but hey, we can't all be as smooth as our older brothers, now can we?"_

 _Daryl shrugged Merle's arm from his shoulder and flipped him off. Merle cackled with laughter and Daryl fought the urge to smile. "Damn you, Merle."_

He could still hear his brother's laughter echoing in his head and a smile teased his mouth as he rounded the corner to head back to work. He breathed the fresh air deep into his lungs, the action calming for him.

"Daryl, wait! Hey!"

Daryl turned at the sound of Tara's shouts, frowning with concern as she ran up to him, waving her hand in the air breathless. She shoved something at him. "What's this?" He asked as he grabbed it although he had a feeling he already knew.

"Carol Peletier. She left her credit card behind by accident and _you_ are gonna take it to her."

Daryl was shaking his head even though his pulse kicked a little at the thought of seeing her again. "No. I don't even know where she lives. Just call her." He attempted to give the card back to Tara, but she lingered just out of reach. What was wrong with his family?

"Lucky for you she's listed in the phone book. I taped her address to the back of the card for you."

Daryl flipped the card over and sure enough, a yellow sticky note was taped to the back, Carol's address written neatly in Tara's handwriting.

"I've got shit to do. No time to be runnin' errands," he protested.

"That's bullshit and you know it. Take her the damn card, Daryl. And while you're there, do yourself a favor and ask her if she needs help. You might be surprised by her answer."

And to think that Daryl had always considered _Merle_ his biggest pain in the ass. Apparently, his sister was making up for lost time or something. Before he could come up with a proper response, Tara was already halfway back to the nursery, a noticeable spring in her step.

He shook his head in wonder.


End file.
